Chapter Fourteen: Did Su Mian Save a Beauty?

Three years later, Su Mian stood backstage at a concert, socializing and making Director Han laugh heartily. They quickly settled on a collaboration. "I have a new film next month, a mystery with classic detective elements. The female lead is a detective, a very likable character. If you're interested, I can send you the script to take a look."

"Sure, let's exchange contact information," Su Mian said, pulling up her WeChat card with a warm smile that made people feel at ease. "You scan mine, and I'll send you my agent's number later. It’s easier for the team to get in touch."

Director Han looked pleased, surprised by how thoughtful this young actress was in handling things. With a beep, the friend request was accepted, and Su Mian posed for photos with Director Han and Silvanor, taking both group and duo shots. Satisfied, Director Han left.

After they parted, Su Mian strolled leisurely, hands in her pockets, her thoughts on the new film. Silvanor’s name, when translated phonetically, meant "God of the Forest," which made her smile to herself—no wonder he hailed from Vienna, the city of forests.

Passing by the makeup room, she faintly heard a quarrel from behind the soundproof door. Su Mian’s ears were sharp; she couldn’t be mistaken.

She moved closer and caught a sharp female voice: “You little temptress! You seduced Brother Liang? I’ll tear your face apart!”

Frowning, Su Mian knew the room must hold a performer who had just finished playing. While musicians might not rely on their looks, a woman’s appearance was precious—no one should ruin that.

She tried the door, but it was locked. She knocked hard, hoping those inside would be considerate.

But whether it was their high spirits or the backstage’s tough atmosphere, no one responded. A crisp slap rang out, followed by a woman’s desperate, anguished scream that made Su Mian’s heart tighten.

She stepped back a few paces, took a running start, and with a loud bang kicked the door open.

Just in time, she caught the arm before another slap could land.

What she saw inside shocked her.

This was no mere quarrel between two women. It was blatant bullying.

The woman being beaten was slender and frail, with long black hair cascading like a waterfall, partially obscuring her bloodied, turned-away face.

She was restrained by two men and a woman with a bob haircut, their hands bound behind her back, pressed to the floor. Despite struggling, she was powerless against their strength, kneeling partially and facing the woman who struck her.

The makeup room was surrounded by full-length mirrors on three sides, reflecting the degrading scene from every angle.

The woman with the bob struggled against Su Mian’s grip but couldn’t break free, her eyes flashing fiercely. “Who do you think you are, meddling in my business?”

“Why are you beating her?” Su Mian narrowed her eyes, asking sharply. The bob-haired woman snorted and said nothing.

“Is she some homewrecker? Or involved in anything immoral or illegal?”

From the guilty expressions of the three, Su Mian judged the injured woman had done no wrong.

The Grand Hall Concert Hall, a renowned cultural venue in Harbor City—if such malicious bullying was allowed here, her nine years of compulsory education would have been wasted.

Grabbing the bob’s arm, Su Mian slapped her sharply.

The crisp smack echoed clearly.

The bob stared in disbelief, her face reflected in the full-length mirror where a red palm print quickly appeared.

Trembling, she screamed in frustration and lunged at Su Mian, who deftly used her knee to block and pivot, pinning her to the ground.

“You dare hit someone and yet fear being hit back?” Su Mian couldn’t stand bullies who preyed on the weak.

Since she couldn’t change what she hadn’t seen, she would never ignore what she encountered. If she didn’t stamp out these rotten elements today, she might as well give up on her name.

Pressing down with her leg, making the bob wince in pain, Su Mian fixed her gaze on the remaining two men and one woman. “Let her go, or I’ll break her arm.”

When Su Mian first entered the entertainment industry, Shang Jiuxu was abroad. Her relationship with Father Shang was awkward, and Grandfather Shang disapproved of her acting career. She didn’t want to worry him, leaving her isolated and ignorant of society’s dark underbelly.

Invisible bullying, hierarchical backstabbing, violent threats, and pervasive unwritten rules—these were fatal yet commonplace trials for a beautiful young woman without connections. To survive cleanly inside, one had to shed not just a layer of skin but multiple layers.

She had shed more than one layer—the sharp, proud, confident, and carefree skins.

Stripping away those former selves, she learned to play it smooth and worldly, careful not to offend the wrong people.

She was alone, but she had to live on.

Su Mian’s expression turned cold and fierce; a chilling light shone in her eyes.

The two men and one woman released the injured woman’s hands and surrounded Su Mian.

A stool was thrown carelessly at her. She ducked easily but chose not to evade.

The injured woman reminded her of her former self, igniting the fury she felt toward injustice. She pulled the bob up with ease and, reacting swiftly, yanked her arm to intercept the flying stool.

The bob was too slow to react; a sharp pain stabbed her lower left abdomen as the stool’s leg struck hard.

Realizing Su Mian had taken the blow for her, she screamed wildly, frenzied and unhinged, clawing at Su Mian’s face—a face she hated even more than Zhao Ruolan’s.

“Ah—”

Su Mian released her hold, throwing her against the makeup table, scattering bottles and jars everywhere. With a left hook, she struck a man’s abdomen. Before he could grimace, she spun to dodge a woman’s leap and lightly swept the woman’s legs, sending her sprawling.

The last man was terrified. He was just paid muscle, not wanting real harm.

Seeing Su Mian use the table to vault easily toward him, he knelt, trembling, hands crossed over his head like a scene from a Hong Kong film. “Please don’t hit me!”

“Did you stop when others begged for mercy?” Su Mian’s eyes flashed with disgust. Such disgrace to Harbor City. She strode forward, gripping his neck, tightening her hold, and coldly glared. “I love Cantonese, but scum like you who aid the wicked don’t deserve to speak it.”

The weak man nearly cried, struggling for breath, eyes squeezed shut beneath her icy gaze. Desperately switching to broken Cantonese, he begged, “Sorry, boss lady! Please spare me!”

“Apologize to her!”

“Sorry, Miss Zhao Ruolan!”

His Cantonese was poor, and Su Mian barely understood, nor cared for his privacy. Turning to the bob and the others, she said coldly, “You too, apologize!”

The bob and her companions, subdued and fearful of further retaliation, dared not speak in Cantonese, bowing solemnly. “Sorry, Miss Zhao Ruolan!”

Their Mandarin was far better, though still halting.

Hearing that name, Su Mian’s pupils constricted sharply.

The melodious violins of Milan and the scent of disinfectant in a hospital room flooded her mind. She quickly released the man’s neck and went to the woman lying motionless on the floor.

Shouchen Mountain.

Shang Jiuxu, slowly awakening from hypnotherapy, sat up in his built-in bed, pressing his fingertip to his temple.

Lin Chu attentively handed him water. He was terrified for his life—his wife and child waited safely in the United States, and with the high salary from Boss Shang, he couldn’t afford to die now.

Shang Jiuxu drank slowly. Suddenly, Lin Youfu burst in. “Master, just received news—Miss Qing saved a beautiful woman backstage at the Grand Hall!”

“Cough, cough…” Shang Jiuxu nearly choked, clutching his fist to his mouth and nose. After steadying himself, he asked calmly, “What, has she taken a liking to her?”

While studying abroad, he had seen many who were attracted to both genders, especially someone like Su Mian—the radiant sun adored by many female fans on Weibo, who often called her “wife.”